


let's start the new year right (or, the midnight kisses affair)

by gothyringwald



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: Illya and Napoleon share a kiss as the clock chimes midnight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of New Year's Eve fluff! I want to thank everyone who has read/commented/left kudos on any of my fic, this year. 2016 was the first year I was able to finally write fic (or anything) on a semi-regular basis and to know it's been read and enjoyed by others brings me a lot of joy. Here's to more fic in adventures 2017! And Happy New Year to all. :)

'...3, 2, 1, happy new year!' Cheers and whoops of delight drift up from the street below as the clock tower chimes midnight. The two men standing on the hotel balcony, overlooking the merriment, turn to each other and raise their glasses.

There is a soft clink as they knock them together. Illya takes a sip from his, the vodka cool in his throat.

Below, merrymakers wear lopsided party hats, shiny dresses and no longer crisp suits. Streamers and confetti fly through the air, littering the street.

'Happy new year, Peril,' says Napoleon, lips quirked in a content smile. Their latest mission had gone well, finished, miraculously, just in time to celebrate New Year's Eve. They had not been able to get home to New York but, still, Illya is glad of the night off and Napoleon's company. 'Happy new year, Cowboy.'

'We survived another one,' adds Napoleon, turning his face up to watch the spectacle in the sky.

Illya thinks fireworks are a foolish waste of money, a frivolous indulgence. But all the same, he admires the colours playing across Napoleon's handsome features. The blissful serenity on the other man's face as he watches the exploding gunpowder sparkle across the inky sky.

Illya leans out over the balcony, looks at the kissing couples below them, feeling an uncharacteristic wistfulness surge through him. He wonders that Napoleon would choose to spend his evening here, with him. 

'I'm surprised you're not down there finding a beautiful woman to dance with.' Illya gestures out toward the crowd, his drink sloshing against the glass's rim.

Napoleon rests his hand on Illya's shoulder and squeezes. 'Nowhere I'd rather be than right here, Peril.'

Heat from Napoleon's hand seeps through Illya's suit, to his shoulder, straight down to his stomach. The two men stand like this, looking at each other fondly, until Illya makes a decision. He takes Napoleon's glass from his hand and places it on the table. Napoleon gives him a confused smile. 'I wasn't finished with that.'

Illya ignores this remark and cups Napoleon's face with both his hands. Napoleon doesn't pull away or ask what he's doing – somehow, he had known he wouldn't – and so Illya leans in and kisses him. It's much gentler than he ever thought a kiss between them would be and so much better for it.

Napoleon hums against his lips, his own hands resting on Illya's waist. They kiss for long moments until Illya pulls away, reluctantly, for air.

'About time,' says Napoleon, grinning wide, breathtaking.

Illya chuckles, gaze drifting over Napoleon's shoulder. There is a woman on the next balcony, standing with a man who has his back toward Illya and Napoleon. Illya had been so caught up he hadn't thought to check the surroundings but the woman only winks and gives him a thumb's up behind her companion's back. Illya smiles and signals back to her. 

'What?' asks Napoleon, starting to turn around, but Illya slides his hands to Napoleon's hips and pulls him closer.

'Nothing.' Illya leans in for another kiss. The woman on the other balcony is now occupied with her own amorous embrace and Illya thinks no more of her as he kisses Napoleon, again, just as he's wanted to for far too long. 

Illya coaxes Napoleon's mouth open, sighing happily as their tongues meet. Napoleon's hands are warm on his shoulders, as the night air is cool around them. 

They kiss as though they have all the time in the world, as though they've done this a million times before. It's perfect.

Illya breaks away, presses one more quick kiss to Napoleon's lips, then picks up his glass, downing the rest of his vodka. Napoleon is eyeing him, and he looks content, if a little dazed. Illya is dizzied to know he can have this affect on his partner.

'You know, they say you spend your new year the way you started it,' Napoleon says, absently stroking his hand down Illya's neck.

Illya's gaze slides to Napoleon. 'Do they?'

'Mmhm.' 

Their eyes lock and Illya sees the question in them that Napoleon isn't asking out loud. He takes Napoleon's hand, kisses his palm, and says, 'I hope they're right.'

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Happy new year, everyone :)
> 
> Title from 'Let's Star the New Year Right' by Bing Crosby


End file.
